


Mastering Communications

by fixomnia



Category: West Wing
Genre: C.J. C. & Toby Z.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-15
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixomnia/pseuds/fixomnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>UC Berkeley, 1987. Where it all began for CJ, Andi and Toby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mastering Communications

SPOILERS: Everything's fair game

DISCLAIMER: In the unlikely event that fanfic is ever hailed as a commercial or artistic threat, I'll become a lawyer. We do what we love, an it harm none.

* * *

September 19, 1987  
Berkeley, CA

Dear Dad,

The honeymoon continues. I thought I'd be fed up by now, wishing I was at work, out from under the hands of tyrannical professors and uppity administrators. But I love it. Except for Macro-Econ, which, like influenza, will pass, I think I'll keep the GPA flag hoisted high.

It's nice not to be the most overqualified ad exec in the office any more, but I'm the youngest in all my classes but one. In Political Comms class there's a real android who's a year younger than me, smarter than me, and would you believe, she's taller in heels. She doesn't like my jokes, and everything she says comes with footnotes and references. Why she picked Berkeley is beyond me.

Calif isn't nearly as loony as they'd like the rest of the country to think. There's certainly everything under the sun here, though. There's a Gothic trend among the freshmen this year that's clashing with the off-duty-protester look of their elders in the upper classes. Thank God I'm a Grad student, or my wardrobe would get me no dates whatsoever. What ho! Was that an admission? Yes, Father, I am seeing a nice young man in a very casual way. His name's Kevin. We met playing B-Ball in the co-ed intramural league. (Only place where my odds of finding a tall fellow become meaningful.) He's a Science geek, thus he speaks Math. With a bit of luck, you can quiz him at Thanksgiving.

I miss you guys like crazy. Maybe Mom would be up for a visit in the spring? Should I mention it when I call next? I know we all have a lot to talk about, but there are a lot of options in Calif. Hospice care here is great. They even give you the good dope in palliative care, and family can stay overnight. Say what you like about Californians breezy attitudes, but it's a refreshing change from the lowered voices at St. Agnes. There's a Catholic-run hospice with daily Mass, not far from campus. Yes, I've done some research. Would you slip that in sometime?

Send more snaps of Hogan and Rosie! They look more like sisters than cousins. Terry told me Hogan called you "Grandpa" for the first time last month. How did you feel? I just get giggles on the phone. No Auntie Claude yet.

I may call before this gets to you, but so be it.

Love you,  
Claudia

PS. No, I wouldn't say I've lost my faith. I'd say it was under renovation, and yes, I'm sure the cancer is what sparked it. I haven't forgotten the important things. I'm just sifting for the really important things.

* * *

September 30, 1987

Dear Mom,

How are you and Dad? I'm keeping well and settling in. I'm writing from the Technical Library, which is the only quiet place on campus. Berkeley is nothing if not active. I'm enjoying all my classes, and keeping healthy despite the lack of time to absorb any of the famous California sun.

That may be a positive, however: the sun seems to have a strong effect on some people! Coastal cultures may be more cosmopolitan by nature, but the clash of materialism and disenfranchised youth here are leading to some very strange statements. There's a separate political party for everything, and I do mean everything. I think a lot of it is to do with the winding down of the Cold War arsenal, and the lack of current things to protest against. What do you do with all that energy when there's only the old familiar problems of home to attend to? The plight of migrant farm workers has become the major issue on campus, but nobody seems to have a single, clear idea for a solution. But that's why I'm here. The real changes happen slowly, and need to be kept moving by people trained to see the big picture and all its implications.

You wouldn't think there would be much news to report after only three weeks, but Masters programs are high-speed microcosms of reality. Classes are wonderful, and a great deal of work and a high standard of performance are required. Performance isn't just an academic term, either. We have speeches to write and deliver, weekly oral presentations, and to round it off, I've been elected as the Poli Sci-Gov Option rep for Student Council! The endorphins haven't entirely settled down yet. The Grad Student Council has a strong history on campus, and we function as actual politicians on campus. It's going to be a great deal of work. There's nothing like it.

I know Dad's still upset with me. Does he know I haven't turned my back on Law completely? There's time for all of it. I want to do both, but even if I took Law, it would be in order to work in government later. I think it's best if I get a solid grounding in the work I want to do, and then see if I need a JD to further my efforts, rather than going through Law first, and needing to start at the bottom of the political workplace. If it helps, tell him I'm doing very well, and my thesis adviser thinks I should put my name in for some of the graduate scholarships. He's the one who convinced me to run for Grad Student Council.

Take care of yourself, and I'll see you at Thanksgiving.

Love,  
Andrea

* * *

October 18, 1987  
Berkeley, CA

Dear everyone,

We're just now sliding into autumn. Is it snowing in Ohio yet?

Thank you for the pile of photos! The babies are so big! Who ever would have foreseen Terry and Justin as new-age daddies with matching strollers? Tell Sadie she looks amazing, and I can't wait to meet mini-Justin when he arrives. I've framed the one of Hogan and Rosie in the sandbox.

School's good. We've really hit the ground running, and midterms are coming up next week. I'm less worried about my grades than my tendency to rail against willing stupidity, even in historical figures. Keeping that for tutorials and hard evidence for essays and presentations is somewhat difficult. As it happens, my most frequent debate opponent in tutorial is Andrea the Android. I think she has a secret task force feeding her intelligence on my presentations, so she has time to gather information to debunk my rants in public.

The soundbite du jour is that The Android is dating her thesis adviser. He's a real Trofimov type, complete with shaggy ponytail, only he's come back to school at last for his PhD. What they have in common is beyond me. They argue constantly, but only about politics and questions of ethics. Maybe it's a ruse to sidestep accusations of preferential treatment. I'm just shocked she had enough life in her to grab him after only a month.

Kevin is still in the picture, thank you. Photo enclosed for your adjudication. Don't we look cute? He's doing his Masters in Solid-State Physics, which I don't pretend to understand, but he's also into camping and hiking. He says the land speaks to him, and I believe him. Flaky he is not.

Mom, don't worry, I'm coming alone for Thanksgiving. It was just an idea, having Kevin tag along. He sends his best regards, and hopes to be able to meet you and Dad soon. When you're back on your feet from the next round of chemo, you and Dad can both come to Calif. There's so much I'd love to show you. Think about long highways, bad music on the radio and picnics in the rest stops, just like old times.

Always,  
Claudia

* * *

Hallowe'en 1987  
Berkeley, CA

Dear Mom and Dad,

How are you both? It was so nice to get your letters, especially since they arrived on the day of my last midterm exam. They were something to look forward to. The garden's looking great. Are those new rose trees?

Yes, I'm still thinking about a JD, but you know I'd never fit into the firm. I appreciate the idea of dynastic lineage - what a line! - and I know the experience would be first-rate. It's just not what I want to do in life, and I don't think I should spend these years of my life proving what I already know. I'm sorry it upsets you. That was never my intention.

I think exam week went well. American Political History is by far my favourite course, although it's hard to suspend judgment and accept past policies and laws as contemporary wisdom. By any modern standards, some are too blatantly racist and sexist for words. It's something of a relief to return to the present and realize how far we've come. At least it provides inspiration for the future. We still have so much farther to go.

Student Council has become the highlight of my week. When we're not navigating between the ombudsman and student complainants, we're actually accomplishing a great deal. We have successfully raised funds from politicians at various levels of government towards an expanded Constitutional Commentary Library, complete with three microfiche readers and a brand new IBM computer, and have initiated a series of evening lectures from alumni who have worked in politics, either as operatives or as elected officials.

I'm near the top of most of my classes, but I'm not sure about Political Communications. There's a woman in that class who's far smarter than me. She's also as tall as I am, with a voice made for the stage. It's really something in broadcast interview mock-ups. Not only does she know her stuff, but she has a winning way with an audience that I don't. It's a hard thing to learn that in media work, no matter how correct your information may be, people will only remember the pithy retort that follows.

Don't worry about my health. I get checked out regularly, and everything's fine. I'd let you know if it wasn't. I should be declared cancer-free right around graduation time. Lots to celebrate.

Love,  
Andrea

* * *

December 17, 1987  
Berkeley, CA

Hi Dad,

I've just come out of my second to last final, and I thought I'd take a breather and write. It's quite the pressure cooker around here. The streets of campus are deserted. Those who haven't gone home for the holidays yet are holed up, wrecking their eyes over small print.

Congratulations again on being a Grandpa three times over! I spoke with Sadie last night, and she sounded exhausted but great. They sent her home with Lionel after 24 hours. Barbaric. What happened to a week of bed rest and fussy nurses? She says he looks like you. Better hang onto the photos till I get there, since we'll just cross in transit anyway.

I'm so sorry about the principalship. It should have gone to you. Obviously there's a huge need for black and latino representation in school administration. But you were the logical choice. I don't really know what to think. Maybe it's true that some new blood will shake things up, but it's still a shame. If America were truly color-blind, it wouldn't even be an issue. Naive, I know.

This will be short, since there hasn't been much news since Thanksgiving, and I'll see you in a few days anyway. I can't wait to see you and squeeze Mom and the kids and the babies - all three of them!

Love always,  
Claudia

* * *

December 18, 1987

Dear Mom and Dad,

How are you both? I'm sorry I haven't written till now. Exam week has gone by so quickly that there's been hardly a moment to breathe, and when I do, it's usually to catch up on errands and house chores. But I have just one more exam, later today, and then a couple of days to recuperate before I see you. At least you'll get me somewhat rested.

I have some exciting news. Besides earning at least a 4.1 GPA for the semester - maybe 4.2 if my last exam goes as well as I think - I am seeing someone. Up until this afternoon, he was my thesis adviser, Toby Zeigler. I've just switched advisers with the blessing and amusement of the department head. Toby is very serious and learned, but with a mile-wide streak of dry humor. He likes to argue big questions with extremely big words. Somehow that makes me lighten up a little. I think you'd both like him. But don't worry, I'm still coming home for the holidays! Toby will just be buried in his doctoral thesis anyway. While the campus is quiet, he has some hope of getting time in the new computer lab. He's doing his PhD in Communications, writing about the semantic shifts in Presidential speeches and statements since the inception of television addresses.

I haven't felt this good in years. It's been a great term. I've never been healthier. There's a great man in my life, friend or otherwise. I feel like I know where I'm going.

I'll post this letter now, and race it home for Christmas!

Love,  
Andrea

* * *

January 12, 1988  
Berkeley, CA

Dear Daddy,

I knew something was up. You might have told me in person, when I could have been a comfort to you and Mom. I wish I was with you now. Mom's right, though - I would have gotten a deferral if I'd known. The Dean would still understand, even though we're back in session. The boys are too busy with their families, and you have more than enough to deal with yourself. I'm the one with the least on her plate, strange to behold.

I went to Mass yesterday for the first time in ages. It felt okay. Actually, I felt like I was demanding the answer sheet after having been asleep in class all along. I don't know that there are any real answers. I know that's where faith comes in, but it can't all be about the afterlife, or why would we have this one?

It's the unknowns, as usual, that keep a person up at night. How long does we have left together, and how can we best help her through? Could she have been better treated at a different hospital than St. Agnes? Weren't there some experimental treatments that might have worked, somewhere out there? Even though we decided everything together, there are these doubts. Who are we to give up? Palliative care seemed like such a comforting, humane option, but just now it feels like giving up.

I should have continued with the piano. Mom and I just couldn't get past the teacher-parent divide, but I wish I could have gleaned as much as possible from her while I could. Maybe someday you can try to teach me. I wish I could play for her now.

It's raining again. So am I.

_I will come home if you need me._ The rest can wait.

I love you,  
Claudia

* * *

January 15th, 1988  
Berkeley, CA

Dear Mom,

How are you? We're back in the swing of things already. This semester I'm taking Civil Rights Issues, two more Government courses, and a Political law course. It's going to be an intensive reading term. Amazingly, Toby seems to understand that I learn best by arguing things to their conclusions. He does it, too. I'm using Student Council as my personal testing ground for the lobbyist/government relationship in action. We are currently working on a petition to the Administration to host a National Student's Mock-Congress next year. I'll be in my first doctoral year, and likely won't have time for Council, but at least I'll be around to see it happen.

Something odd happened that made me sit back and take stock of everything that's happened in the past five years. Being diagnosed with breast cancer at such a young age was traumatic, to say the least, and I know now that so much of my anger had to do with fear of losing the future: losing half a breast before I'd even had a long-term, stable relationship, and probably any chance of having children later on, after all the radiation. But what if I'd already had a family and was looking forward to a happy retirement, watching my grandkids growing up, and then got cancer? And had to watch them all watching me suffer, knowing that I no longer had youth on my side? Maybe I was let off easily.

A few days ago I found one of my classmates from last semester, C.J. (Claudia Jean, in full), the tall one from Poli Comms, crying in the library. Since we weren't exactly friendly last year, I didn't know if she'd be more upset if I spoke to her. But I sat down anyway. She told me her mother was in the final stages of cancer, after only two years with it, and was about to go into palliative hospice care. Her parents are adamant that she stay in California and finish her degree. They're in Ohio. Her boyfriend isn't dealing at all well with what she's going through and she's pretty sure he's trying to break up with by simply not being around. She's thinking of leaving the program at the end of the year, and leaving with a Master's, which they'll award to a high-achieving one-year student.

We talked for four hours. We have an awful lot in common, besides having cancer as an 'unwelcome guest' in the family, as the saying goes. When Toby came to pick me up for dinner, we invited her along. It turned into one of those serendipitous meetings when all the pieces fall into place. Despite the horrible circumstances, I'm glad we did finally connect. It's a very honest and inspiring connection. I think she's the first female friend I've made on campus. I had never seen Toby in Jewish Mama mode, either, and it was truly heartwarming. He listened, he made sympathetic noises and fed us comfort food, and insisted on driving C.J. back to her residence later. We had a very serious talk on the way back to his place, about my own cancer and its implications. We may have been talking in medical terms, but it was quite clear we were talking about our relationship.

I realized something else after that. Do you think Dad's obsession with getting me to join the firm has its roots in not wanting me out of his sight?

I can understand that.

Love,  
Andrea


End file.
